Dark Xanadu Book One

by Sindra van Yssel

  “Does it?” said Pemberton. He appeared to think for a moment, and then smiled at Angela. There was a little glamour behind the smile, as if Pemberton couldn’t even quite turn it all off anymore. “Well, I’ll make a deal. Morgan won’t use his glamour on them. You’ll have to give me their names, of course, because he has to sort out who is whom. If they choose to go with him anyway, without…undue influence, shall we say, then you will accept that.”

  Angela paused for a moment. Hopefully she knew when not to push it. At last she nodded. “Deal. Stacy and Monica.”

  Pemberton nodded to her before turning to Kent. “You leave my people alone, and I’ll leave yours alone. You’re free to defend yourself, as you can assume that anyone, alive or dead, who means you harm didn’t come from me.”

  Kent wasn’t at all sure he could assume that, but he nodded.

  “I may ask you for little favors now and then. You seem to have a talent for killing vampires. Sometimes they get out of line.”

  Favors. He didn’t like the sound of that, and he certainly wasn’t going to agree sight unseen. But Pemberton didn’t seem to want his agreement; he was content to make his statement. Already his vampires were filtering through the room, replacing the shocked, horrified expressions on the swinger’s faces with bland smiles. It didn’t sit well at all to watch him do the same to Genna and Charles, but maybe it was better that way. Pemberton took care of them personally.

  “Have a wonderful evening,” said Pemberton at last, after all the vampires had left except for him and two who stood at his side. Morgan and Doreen were long gone. The wolf with Brennan’s eyes, too, had limped off, although Kent wasn’t sure quite when. The woman in the mask he hadn’t seen since before the fight.

  Kent nodded. Around them, the swingers did their thing, and if they went home having seen a few more strangers at their gathering than usual, at least that was all they could remember happening that was out of the ordinary.

  Chapter Twelve

  Angela looked up at Kent. It was his fault she’d gotten involved in all this, of course. She could have gone on her little life without knowing anything about the things that fed in the night. She’d seen him kill two…well, not people exactly, but kind of…maybe…she wasn’t sure. The sight should have repelled her. But somehow it didn’t. She couldn’t imagine gentle Edward cutting off anyone’s head. Kent did it without hesitation, to defend her and his friends. She found the touch of his arm around her waist strangely settling. This was a man who could protect what was his. Who could protect her.

  “Come, my little angel,” he said to her, his voice pitched low so only she could hear him.

  She shivered, caught by a sudden terror. “I don’t want to be tied up.” Memories of that long night in Peter’s basement sitting in the chair, trying to get free, flashed before her eyes. An idea that, if she were honest, had always turned her on wasn’t attractive in the least anymore. It was downright terrifying.

  He smiled, and she knew he understood. “I don’t need to tie you up, Angela. Come.” He steered her toward his office. She didn’t have any problems with that. Whatever they were going to do, she was happy enough doing it in private. And, she discovered, she was happy to let him decide where to go from there, as long as what he was doing included her.

  He guided her through the doorway, stepped in, and pushed the door closed before kissing her hard on the lips. She yielded to him, hungry for his lips, his tongue, anything he wanted to give her.

  She smiled up at him impishly when he leaned back at last from the kiss. “So what are you going to do with me?”

  “Fall in love with you, it seems.” His tone was light, but his look wasn’t. He stared into her eyes with a powerful intensity.

  Her heart thumped an extra beat. So there it was. He’d said it. Kind of. She knew she ought to say something back, that he was waiting for her. But instead the word that came out was, “Why?”

  The corners of his mouth turned up. “Well, for starters, you’re a lovely person, and beautiful, and responsive. Submissive in the bedroom, yet strong-willed enough to bargain with a vampire who probably has two or three centuries on you and oozes power. Brave. Sexy. And you seem to fit me perfectly.”

  Angela grinned. “Well, that will do for starters. I seem to be falling in love with you, too.”

  He chuckled. “What I meant to say, of course, was I love you.”

  She let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. “I love you too.” She realized she could stay there staring into his eyes forever. But at the same time it was almost too much, like flying too close to the sun. What did loving this dominant man mean? She had a feeling she was only beginning to find out.

  His fingers were undoing the buttons on her blouse. “I’d like to tell you I’d do anything for you, but I think you know what I’d do for you. The fact is, my little angel…”

  “Yes?” Her heart was beating faster again.

  “That I’ll get you to do all sorts of things for me. Things you’ve dreamed of, things you haven’t. Fantasies lived and fulfilled.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise. Undress for me.”

  She nodded. He’d already undone all the buttons on her blouse except for the ones at the sleeves. She watched him as she unbuttoned those, and tossed her blouse on the couch. Her bra followed. Her sneakers she kicked off. She stuck her socks in them, aware of how his eyes followed the swaying of her breasts when she bent over.

  She slipped out of her jeans, resisting the urge to take her panties off at the same time. Whatever he was going to do, she wanted it, because it would be him doing it to her. But she had a feeling from what he said before that she’d be wearing skirts and no panties for a while, and so she wouldn’t have too many chances to take off her underwear for him. She hooked her fingers in the waistband and asked him, “These, too?” knowing the answer already.

  “Especially those.”

  Good thing, too, because they were starting to get annoyingly wet. She took her time shimmying the blue and white striped panties over her hips, until they were finally ready to drop to the floor. She stepped out of them. “And now what?”

  His eyes flashed. “Try again.”

  She knew what he wanted. And what she wanted to give. “And now what, Sir?”

  “Go sit on the desk. Facing me.”

  She did as directed, jumping up on the desk, her legs together out of habit.

  “Always, always keep your legs spread for me, my little angel.”

  It didn’t seem very angelic of her but she obeyed, knowing he could see how wet she was. She wanted him to know, she realized. Wanted him to know exactly what he did to her. How even now her pussy was tingly and warm and her breasts ached for his touch. All he had to do was sweep his gaze across her chest and her nipples tightened in response.

  He fished in his pocket and pulled out something metallic. Two little clamps, like little tweezers, each rubber tipped, attached to the other by a silver chain. She had a very good idea where those were going, and she wanted to pull back in response. But she didn’t move, and her nipples only got harder in anticipation.

  A small ring fit over each tweezer. He stroked her right peak with the metal, which to her surprise wasn’t especially cold. She supposed that was from him keeping them in his pockets.

  “Were you carrying those all day?”

  “Just the evening.”

  It seemed pretty odd thing to carry into battle. “Why?”

  “Your favorite question, little angel. Good thing I enjoy answering. I was as focused as I could be on the trial ahead, but I wanted to have something with me that would only be useful if there was a future afterward. A sort of promise to myself.”

  “Pretty strange promise.”

  “I’m a pretty strange person.” With that, he set the rubber ends around her right nipple, and slowly moved the metal ring that went around them down halfway towards the end, tightening them. She gritted her teeth as sharp jolts o
f sensation electrified her body. It was like being pinched. Hard. But more so.

  Before she’d even fully processed it, the other clamp had closed as well. The chain dangled between her breasts, and any little motion of hers sent it swaying and pulling at her sensitive nipples.

  She opened her mouth to object, but his tongue invaded it. Somehow the sensation faded down to a bearable, almost pleasurable ache at each peak. She was probably dripping all over his desk by now, she thought, from the way the ache made her even more aware of the connection between her tits and her pussy than it did of the chain than connected her breasts.

  She felt his hands kneading her inner thighs, so close to where she needed them to be and yet not close enough. She knew that he meant her to be still, but she squirmed anyway, trying to get his fingers to touch her weeping pussy. It didn’t work, but it did send the chain swaying again, with the resultant tug making the whole aching and wanting cycle begin anew.

  His lips drew back from hers, leaving her empty there. She wanted something in her mouth, and in her pussy…fingers, tongue, cock, whatever. Something that was him. Still he teased her thighs. She opened her mouth to speak, and closed it when she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to call him Master or bastard.

  “I plan to keep you, little angel,” he told her. “Any objections?”

  “Am I allowed any?”

  He chuckled. “Only if you want to be. This once.”

  What would being kept by this man mean? This once. If he were playing, he wouldn’t have granted the exception. If she said yes, she’d probably be giving up the chance to object to all sorts of things. No, that wasn’t right, because he’d honor her safe word. Aside from that, he’d do as he wished and expect her to yield.

  The thought made her pussy weep even more. She pushed that away for the moment and looked into his eyes. His fingers had stopped moving. The moment seemed to freeze. He was serious. This wasn’t a decision to be made on the basis of hot sex alone. She knew there would be plenty of that with him. It was a question for her heart and even her mind.

  To be with this honorable, powerful, decisive man? It seemed all of her was in one accord. “No objections, Sir.”

  He kissed her again, hard, his lips pressing against hers as if they couldn’t get close enough. And this time, his fingers found their way up, a couple them sliding into her pussy without resistance. They felt so good, and she wanted more.

  “I want you to fuck me,” she said. He looked at her, fingers still moving inside her, thumb brushing over her clit and sending jolts through her body. She hadn’t realized how close she was. Why was he looking at her like that?

  “Sir,” she added.

  “I will in a moment,” he said. And then he brushed his thumb across her clit one more time, his fingers thrusting in and then curling to get her G-spot. His other hand tugged, ever so lightly, on the chain connecting her nipples, and the sudden stretching pushed her over the edge and taking her whole body with it. She was dimly aware she’d sent a book crashing to the floor.

  She didn’t realize she was screaming until a few seconds later.

  Oh my God. Her cheeks burned. They had to be crimson by now. “This room isn’t soundproof, is it?” she asked hopefully. The swinger party was back in full gear again outside the door, as if nothing had happened.

  “Not quite,” he said with a smile. “Seems you like those little toys.” He nodded down to the clamps.

  “I think I like your fingers more. If it was your cock I might still be screaming.” She looked down at her nipples, bright red in the clamps, and nodded reluctantly. “Yes, I guess I do.”

  “They shouldn’t stay on for too long, I’m afraid,” he said. “I’m going to have to take them off.”

  He unzipped his trousers, which didn’t seem to her to have much to do with taking them off as far as she could tell. It did give her a sight to look at, though. His cock was hard, jutting straight toward her pussy, its purplish helmet dribbling pre-cum.

  “For me?”

  “Yes, love, for you.” He reached in his pocket.

  “If you’re going to keep me,” she said, “you can’t have anyone else.”

  He blinked. “Yes, that is the idea. I have no intention of having anyone else.”

  “Are you clean?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then don’t worry about the condom. I’m on the pill anyway. Haven’t had sex with anyone but you for over two years, so I’m as clean as can be.” She wanted his cock inside her. She wanted to feel him, skin to skin, and feel every pulse when he exploded inside.

  He tossed the wrapper unopened to the desk.

  “This is going to hurt.”

  She blinked. He was big, but not that big. Then he released one of the clamps, and she knew exactly what he meant. Nerves that had been quiet suddenly sounded the alarm. It was worse than when he put them on. She yelped.

  He took off the other one before she could reach out her hand to stop him. And then, with one swift thrust, he was inside her, one hand on her ass pulling her close until he was all the way inside. Fuck that hurts. Ohmygod that feels good.

  He wasn’t gentle, and she didn’t want him to be. Each plunge sent her butt against the desk and rattled her deep inside. With each thrust another wave of pleasure rolled over her, and the pain from her abused nipples subsided, fusing into a warm—hot—glow.

  Neither of them lasted more than a dozen strokes. Her orgasm shook her whole body and made her toes curl. One thrust later he exploded inside her, squirting hot against her inner walls. Together they caught their breath, hanging on to each other tightly.

  She smiled at him. “There’s something I’ve always dreamt about being ordered to do,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t find her fantasies too over the top. “Ordered because I figured I’d never have the courage on my own.”

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “You give me courage.” She shimmied off the desk, pushing him back a little so that there was space for her at his feet, on her knees. Then she took his now half-erect penis in her hands, and guided it into her mouth. She tasted her own faintly metallic taste on him, and the saltiness of his cum, all mixed together. She smiled at the thought of the two of them so intermingled against her tongue, and then looked up, afraid that he would think it too gross for her to go down on him right after he had come inside her.

  He was only smiling. And his cock was getting hard again. He recovered fast.

  Her lips tightened around his shaft, letting it slide against her tongue as she drew back. His rapidly lengthening and thickening member was getting harder to take all of—and then impossible, as he grew to his full length. She licked the underside of him, cleaning every last trace of the sex they had from his cock. When she tickled the little slit at the tip, he shuddered. She grinned.

  Tightening her lips around him once more, she took in as much of him as she could, sucking him down until the head pushed against the back of her throat, and then drew back, almost letting him go. Then again, and again.

  “I won’t be able to take much more of that,” he warned her.

  He really does recover fast. But she wanted to taste him now, undiluted. She sucked him down, squeezing his shaft with her lips, trying to draw the seed out of him. He was able to take more than he thought. She wondered if he was holding back on her, but just as she had the thought the first taste of him jetted across her tongue. She swallowed, knowing there was more, and she wasn’t disappointed. She let a little escape, although she didn’t need to, and felt it dribble down her chin, and when he’d given her his last she looked up at him impudently.

  I made him do that. Being the sub doesn’t mean I’m powerless.

  He bent down, grabbed her by the waist and pulled her up, and that delicious, powerful feeling gave way to an even more delicious feeling of surrender. He surprised her by kissing her, deeply. She was shocked for a moment, and then realized that he might enjoy tasting himself in her as much as she enjoyed tasting her
self on him. Their tongues wrestled, wet and slippery, in a kiss that seemed like it would never end.

  “Wow,” she said at last.

  He grinned back at her. “Yeah.”

  “Master,” she said to him. “I love you.”

  He grinned even wider. “I love you, too. My little angel.”

  Author Bio

  Sindra van Yssel is a practicing librarian on the east coast of the United States. She spends her off time writing books too spicy for the library shelves, taking her son to Soccer games, cooking East Asian food, playing Dance Dance Revolution, and listening to old bands like Bauhaus and The Cure. She has difficulty sticking to any one hair color, but as of this writing, it’s bright purple. Her website is at www.sindravanyssel.com.